


Endgame

by vanillalime



Category: Oz (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Chess, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mind Games, Serial Killers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:03:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8340946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillalime/pseuds/vanillalime
Summary: Chris Keller receives a visit from FBI Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. The good news? Agent Mulder doesn't think that Keller is a serial killer. The bad news? Mulder believes that he's a vampire instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dustandroses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/gifts).



> The seed for this story was planted by dustandroses during the recent Fandom Giftbox fest at Dreamwidth when she wrote the prompt "Keller likes a challenge, so he seduces some guy even he wasn't sure he could get." That prompt, combined with her general likes of crossovers with fandoms like The X-Files, led to the following story. Unfortunately, there was no way I could complete it in time for the Fandom Giftbox, but I'm posting it now in time for Halloween.
> 
> Setting: Oz, mid-Season 4 (late 2000)

Keller studied the chess board, disgusted with himself.  
  
He’d played countless matches over the last several days (a consequence of Em City’s current spell of unending monotony), and he had been victorious in all of them. But apparently that success had bred a sense of complacency that had caused him to lose his touch. Rebadow was an adequate opponent, but hardly a mastermind. Normally, Keller would’ve wiped the floor with him by now.  
  
Keller carefully slid his queen across the board, ignoring the  _tsk-tsk_  sound originating from across the table. If Rebadow wasn't careful, he was going to lose some fucking teeth. Keller slowly sat back and began drumming his fingers along the edge of the tabletop in an amateurish attempt to distract the old man.  
  
While he waited for Rebadow to make his next move, Keller glanced up from the board and caught Beecher emerging from the laundry room with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Keller’s blood began to boil. Beecher ignored his laser-beam glare, deliberately turning away to avoid eye contact. He casually strolled toward his pod, arms wrapped tight around his basket of neatly folded clothes.  
  
Keller stared at the laundry room door, waiting to see who else would emerge. His drumming ceased as his fingertips curled inward, the nails cutting into his palms. He envisioned those powerful fingers digging into the throat of his next victim as he reminded everyone, once again, of the fatal repercussions of touching Tobias Beecher.  
  
To Keller’s surprise, the lone figure that emerged from the room was that of Agamemnon Busmalis. Whistling a nondescript showtune, Busmalis proceeded to slowly juggle a shapeless pile of laundry across the commons area. Keller caught his eye as he walked by, and Busmalis nodded awkwardly, his casual deportment suddenly shifting into a look of concern.  
  
Rebadow leaned forward. "The only fluid they exchanged was fabric softener," he declared quietly.  
  
Keller snorted in response. As he tried to focus his attention back on the game, Rebadow captured his knight and set it aside.  
  
"Checkmate."  
  
Keller gripped the edge of the table. He was about to topple the remaining chess pieces with a hard shake when he saw Murphy approaching him out of the corner of his eye. He quickly froze in place.  
  
"Get up, Keller," instructed Murphy as he reached the table. "You’re a wanted man."  
  
Keller forced himself to respond with a sly grin. "Really?" he drawled. "I didn't think I was your type."  
  
Murphy frowned and pulled at his chair. "Cut the crap," he growled. "It's the FBI. They want to talk to you."  
  
_Well, sonofabitch._  
  
Agent Pierce Taylor had been nothing but a goddamn pain in Keller's sizable ass. When he wasn't busy fucking up kidnapping investigations, he was digging for information about years-old murders that should be left the hell alone.  
  
Keller got up from the table and sauntered through Em City, following Murphy into a conference room. But to his surprise, Agent Taylor was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a woman and another man, both unknown to him, stood silently in the room. They turned to face him as Murphy promptly retreated, closing the door behind him.  
  
Putting on his most charming smile, Keller quickly sized them up. The woman was a beautiful, tiny thing, but all hard edges and defensiveness. She stood with her back against the wall, arms crossed in front of her, lips pursed into a thin line. Keller got the impression that she'd rather be anywhere else but here. Her blazing red hair briefly reminded him of Bonnie, and he felt his dick come to life with a twitch.  
  
The man was tall and fairly attractive, and Keller detected a nice body underneath that ill-fitting G-man suit. However, what really piqued Keller's interest was the agent's poor attempt at a stoic veneer, one that did little to hide his eagerness and excitement. It reminded Keller of Toby on the day when he'd thought he’d introduced Keller to the game of chess. Keller’s dick instantly grew heavier.  
  
Suddenly, this day had gotten a lot more interesting.  
  
"I'm Agent Mulder," the man announced, "and this is Agent Scully."  
  
Keller nodded his head in acknowledgment.  
  
"Please, sit down," continued Mulder with a wave of his hand. "We’d like to ask you a few questions."  
  
Keller dragged a chair across the floor, the resultant screeching sound reverberating off the walls. He dropped himself into the seat, leaned back, and slowly spread his legs wide. Looking directly at Mulder, he smirked and replied, "I'm all yours."  
  
Mulder sat down in the chair opposite him as the redhead rolled her eyes.  
  
"What happened to Agent Taylor?" Keller asked conversationally. "Did he quit the FBI in disgrace after botching Hank Schillinger's arrest?"  
  
"No," Mulder answered slowly. "I asked that your file be reassigned to us. Agent Scully and I investigate crimes that are, uh, unique in nature. They're known as the X Files."  
  
Keller opened his eyes wide with interest. "The sex files?"  
  
"No, the  X Files," Mulder enunciated. He crossed his forearms over his chest in the shape of an X. "Like the letter," he clarified.  
  
Keller just nodded his head. "All right."  
  
Mulder pulled a couple of photographs out of a file and slid one of them across the table. "Recognize this face?" he asked.  
  
Keller leaned forward and looked down at the photo. He saw a smiling young man, early twenties at the most, celebrating at a party. One hand held a flute of champagne while the other flashed a peace sign. The photo was date-stamped 12-31-97.  
  
Keller shook his head. "Nope."  
  
"His name’s Jeremy Bennett. Ring a bell?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"He was a regular at the Tangerine Ballroom—the same nightclub frequented by Mark Carachi."  
  
Keller blinked. "I heard of it."  
  
"Jeremy Bennett and Mark Carachi were good friends."  
  
Keller gave the agents a little smile. "Friends, or fuckbuddies?"  
  
Ignoring Keller’s question, Mulder continued. "Two weeks before Mark Carachi was found murdered, Jeremy Bennett disappeared. The police believed that he’d simply skipped town, given that he was in some financial trouble and had problems at home. He’s been missing for nearly three years."  
  
Mulder picked up the second photograph and flashed it at him. "Then, a few days ago, hunters discovered Jeremy Bennett’s body in the woods not far from the Tangerine Ballroom—the same woods where someone had dumped Mark Carachi’s body."  
  
Keller shrugged.  
  
Mulder pushed the photo toward him. "Look at Jeremy’s body, Keller."  
  
Keller took the photograph and studied it. Trees and rocks and bright yellow police tape surrounded a body lying face-up on a bed of fallen leaves. Partially obscured by the foliage was a small metal device clamped to one of the body's legs. The body was clearly that of the fresh-faced young man in the first photo, looking much as he had during that 1997 New Year’s Eve celebration.  
  
Keller furrowed his brow. "He died recently, not three years ago," he observed.  
  
Mulder nodded his head. "Yes, as you can see, his leg was caught in a trap. Because of some recent bear sightings, those hunters had placed that trap in the woods just last week. It broke the bones in Jeremy’s leg, but it's not what killed him."  
  
Mulder paused and stole a quick look in the direction of his fellow agent. "At least, not directly," he added mysteriously.  
  
The redhead shifted against the wall, looking even more irritated than before.  
  
Mulder then removed a thin pile of papers from the file and shuffled through them. "Agent Scully performed the autopsy on Jeremy. She concluded that his death was due to massive blood loss."  
  
Mulder's eyes lit up as he looked back at Keller. "It’s funny, though. There were no lacerations anywhere on Jeremy's body that could have led to such a condition. There was no blood on the ground. The injuries sustained from the bear trap were all internal. The only indication of any additional trauma to the body was two distinct puncture wounds on the side of the neck, long since healed over."  
  
Mulder demonstrated this finding by vigorously tapping two of his fingers against his own neck.  
  
Suddenly, Keller remembered Toby’s exuberance as he’d tried to explain castling to him. Keller stared blankly back at Mulder, but his hard-on intensified.  
  
"You know what I think?" Mulder asked. He leaned forward eagerly, not waiting for a reply. "I think exposure is what really killed him. Exposure to the sunlight, to be precise. He got caught in that trap during the night and couldn't flee when the sun came up in the morning."  
  
Silence filled the room. Keller sat there, looking at Mulder. Then, all at once, his insinuations registered. A grin spread quickly over Keller's face.  
  
"Wait a minute," he said in amazement. "Are you tellin' me that you think this Jeremy was a  _vampire_?"  
  
The redhead sighed softly in the background. Keller glanced in her direction and saw her standing motionless, eyes closed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
  
Keller started laughing.  
  
Mulder’s eyes narrowed. "Many ancient legends were rooted in physical truths," he declared. "There is a reason why vampire folklore has withstood the test of time."  
  
"Yeah, and that reason is named Bela Lugosi," Keller replied, wiping a tear from his eye.  
  
"Look, Keller, I’d listen closely if I were you," Mulder snapped. "Because I have a theory, and it might exonerate you as a suspect in all those homosexual murders that Agent Taylor was investigating."  
  
Keller took a moment to settle down, then tilted his head inquisitively.  
  
"I believe that, three years ago, Jeremy Bennett became a vampire," Mulder asserted. "Now, historical data dictates that young vampires need a lot of fresh blood to sustain their new bodies. Unlike their elders, they’re not concerned with changing people into new vampires—they’re thirsty and want to feed. They’re also incapable of controlling their sexual urges—they’re aroused and want to have sex. And they aren’t particularly careful in how they go about satisfying these desires."  
  
Mulder pulled more documents out of his file. "Here are some other autopsy reports, including the one for Mark Carachi," he said, his voice growing louder with anticipation. "His body had multiple puncture wounds around the neck, in addition to the numerous other injuries inflicted on him as he was being raped and tortured to death."  
  
Mulder tapped his finger repeatedly on top of the paperwork. "There were similar findings in the autopsies for Byam Lewis and Bryce Tibbits, the other murder victims who were known to patronize the Tangerine Ballroom."  
  
Mulder abruptly stood up and walked around the table, stopping when he reached Keller’s side. He gripped the back of Keller’s chair and bent over him.  
  
Keller caught of whiff of Mulder's aftershave. Cinnamon, with a touch of citrus. Nothing like Toby's father’s aftershave, but nice.  
  
"Agent Taylor was mistaken," Mulder concluded. "Jeremy Bennett killed those three men, not you."  
  
Keller nodded his head, looking Mulder directly in the eye. "I kept telling Taylor that I had nothin’ to do with those murders. But he just wouldn’t listen."  
  
Keller paused, then added, "I guess he wasn't as open-minded as you." He blatantly rubbed his hands down the lengths of his inner thighs.  
  
"Don’t get too excited, Keller," Mulder replied. "You’re not out of trouble yet."  
  
Keeping eye contact, Mulder stood up straight, placing the significant bulge in his pants directly in Keller's line of sight.  
  
"I think Jeremy killed those three men, targeting them because he knew them from the club," Mulder theorized. "Then he mastered control and went into hiding, coming out only occasionally at night to feed. But there's a very important question here that remains unanswered:  
  
"How exactly did Jeremy become a vampire? Who turned him, starting this mess?"  
  
As Mulder’s stare intensified, Keller realized what he was implying.  
  
"You think  _I’m_  a vampire?" he asked in disbelief. He started laughing again, then glanced over Mulder’s shoulder at the redhead. She was staring up at the ceiling, apparently engrossed in other thoughts.  
  
"I’ve read your entire file, Keller. You fit the profile neatly. Apparently, you're very… persuasive with people, both men and women."  
  
"What are you trying to say, Agent Mulder?" Keller asked. He cocked his eyebrow suggestively. "I may suck, but I don’t bite."  
  
He thought he heard the redhead chuckle.  
  
"Besides," Keller continued. "I think you’re forgetting where I am. If I was really a vampire, don’t you think I would’ve found a way out of Oz? Or escaped before ever being sent here?"  
  
"On the contrary," Mulder retorted. "Maybe you  _want_  to be here. This place holds a number of advantages that actually make things rather convenient for you:  
  
"Oz has a hospital, so access to blood isn't a problem—certainly, it’s easier to get than drugs or alcohol.  
  
"You’re surrounded by plenty of lonely, desperate guys who can be charmed into feeding your sexual appetite.  
  
"You can kill anyone who grows suspicious of your secret, knowing that you can easily pin it on some other inmate with a reputation for violence.  
  
"And, finally, Oz is the one prison in the northeast that doesn't have any outdoor recreation time, thereby completely eliminating the risk of exposure to sunlight."  
  
Putting his case to rest, Mulder crossed his arms over his chest in anticipation of Keller's response.  
  
"That's ridiculous," Keller argued. "It’s not like I asked to be sent here. The judge and the district attorney  _put_  me here. Or do you think that the criminal justice system is colluding with vampires? Because the only way your theory makes sense is if there’s some kind of top-secret government conspiracy to control the vampire population by placing them in prisons."  
  
Mulder’s eyes opened wide, and he caught his breath, dropping all pretense of professionalism. It reminded Keller of the sudden change in Toby's expression whenever he brought him to orgasm.  
  
The redhead groaned loudly.  
  
Agent Scully tore herself away from the wall and walked around the table to Mulder’s side. Addressing Mulder, she muttered, "I’m going to go talk to the nun." Then she turned abruptly on her heel and was out the door before either of them could react.  
  
A few seconds later, Mulder broke the awkward silence. "She’s a little skeptical of my theories," he explained weakly.  
  
"I noticed," Keller nodded sympathetically. "That probably makes your job…" Keller reached over and gently placed his hand over that bulge in Mulder’s pants, "…  _really hard._ "  
  
He could feel Mulder’s dick immediately stiffen through the suit’s cheap fabric. Keller let the warmth from his hand permeate Mulder’s groin for a moment, then he gently squeezed.  
  
Mulder gasped. Keller continued to grip his dick lightly as he slowly moved his hand down… and down… and down further still.  
  
_Jesus Christ, this guy puts Hoyt to shame._  
  
Marveling at the length, Keller finally got to the end and paused. When Mulder made no move to stop him, he smiled and began gradually sliding his hand back upwards. When he got to Mulder’s belt, his confident fingertips expertly unfastened the buckle. He quickly undid the button and pulled down the zipper, revealing a pair of bright red briefs underneath.  
  
For a split second, Keller wondered what Mulder could've been thinking when he selected such garish underclothing. He allowed himself to briefly imagine the pleasant feel of the soft cotton fabric and the tight fit before pushing his hand inside. Mulder moaned softly as Keller’s wandering fingers found a damp spot, pre-cum already soaking through the material.  
  
Keller slowly stood up from his chair and processed the changes in Mulder’s countenance: eyes half-closed, mouth slightly agape, cheeks flushed to a beautiful rosy color. Mulder’s breaths grew increasingly labored as Keller continued to massage his mammoth cock with masterful strokes, alternating between firm and gentle.  
  
Mulder’s tongue poked out from his mouth, and he slowly licked his lips with the tip of it, leaving them shiny and wet. Keller stared at them, transfixed, and his own erection screamed for some kind of relief.  
  
Keller leaned into Mulder, pressing his hard cock into Mulder’s thigh, while his fingers found the elastic waistband of those red briefs. Keller dug in behind it, brushing down past the coarse hair until his fingertips met taut skin.  
  
"This feel good?" Keller murmured softly. Mulder didn’t answer, but his breath hitched. Moving his own mouth closer to Mulder’s blood-red lips, Keller whispered, "That tight-ass you have for a partner should appreciate you more."  
  
There was the briefest of pauses, then all hell broke loose.  
  
Mulder’s eyes flew open then quickly narrowed into a glare. His body tensed, and Keller suddenly felt his wrist being crushed in a vise-like grip as his hand was wrenched from depths of Mulder’s underwear.  
  
Keller knew better than to fight back, so he gritted his teeth as Mulder twisted his arm behind his back and threw him face-first into the closest wall.  
  
"I think I gave you too much credit," Mulder hissed into his ear. "You’re not the expert in seduction that I’d been led to believe." Mulder gave him a hard shove into the wall, then let go.  
  
Keller heard the sound of a zipper and the fumbling of clothes. He slowly turned around, keeping his back to the wall, and saw Mulder hurrying toward the room's exit.  
  
Jerking the door open, Mulder looked back at Keller and spat, "You may be a monster, but you’re no vampire."  
  
Then he motioned for Murphy and was gone.

*~*~*~*~*

Keller smiled to himself as he moved his castle across the chess board, bringing it to rest next to Rebadow’s king.  
  
"Checkmate," he announced.  
  
Rebadow squinted and frowned. Rubbing his hand over the top of his balding head, he mumbled, "I didn’t see that one coming."  
  
Keller chuckled softly. He began to reset the discarded pieces, finishing just as Busmalis walked up to the table.  
  
"Hey, it’s dinnertime," Busmalis informed them. "We should get going, Bob."  
  
Rebadow pushed his chair back and almost collided with Beecher, walking through the commons area with his head down and a forlorn expression on his face. Beecher barely acknowledged the close call as he quickly continued on his way, heading directly toward his pod.  
  
"He had a visit with his daughter this afternoon," Busmalis said quietly. "Maybe she's not doing so well."  
  
Keller's eyes continued to follow Beecher's path. After entering his pod, he collapsed into a chair, slumped forward, and buried his head in his hands. He looked ripe for comforting.  
  
"I’m going to guess that Beecher isn’t interested in eating dinner with us tonight," observed Rebadow. He turned toward Keller. "You want to come instead?"  
  
Keller imagined how it would feel to once again hold Toby in his arms, to clutch the nape of his neck with his hand while his fingertips wended their way through his soft hair. He imagined—no, he knew—it would feel really fucking good. Maybe it was time, finally, for him to make the move.  
  
"We need to get there early," Rebadow prodded. "It’s spaghetti night."  
  
Keller instantly wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No thanks. I’ll pass."  
  
"Oh, that’s right," Rebadow realized. "I forgot that you’re allergic to garlic."  
  
Keller shuddered slightly as he stood up. "I can’t even be in the same room with that shit," he said.  
  
Then he turned and began making his way toward Toby’s pod.


End file.
